


The First One's Free

by kijilinn



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Blood, D/s, F/M, Gore, Negan Being Negan, Negan Smut Week, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 12:26:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8489644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kijilinn/pseuds/kijilinn
Summary: Lucasta was his wife. She ran, hard and fast when she was caught stealing supplies. Now, nobody listened to her warnings and she's back where she started. At Negan's feet.





	1. Chapter 1

“He can’t have that many people. He can’t be everywhere at once.” Rick climbed up into the RV to check on Maggie again and Michonne shook her head slowly.

“He’s getting over-confident,” Lucasta said in a low tone, her voice urgent. “Michonne, you’ve got to tell him. He can’t fuck with Negan. He’ll get us all killed.”

“It’s already too late for that, I think,” Michonne whispered back. “We’ve already killed a lot of his men. There can’t be that many more, can there?” Lucasta gave her friend a long stare and watched while Michonne’s face sobered. “Can there? Lu, tell me.”

“Negan has people. Negan has support. Negan has gear and supplies and the power to pretty much do whatever he wants,” Lucasta whispered. “We cannot fight him, fair fight or otherwise. This war is going to get us all killed. We need to cut a deal.” She pushed her short hair out of her face in irritation. It was getting too long again and she’d need to take scissors to the front soon. “I’m going with you.”

“Are you sure?” Michonne said softly. “You don’t have to, Lu.”

“I do.” She straightened her spine and met her friend’s dark eyes, focused. “I can fight. And I can talk. Who knows. Maybe it’ll be enough.”

Michonne watched her for a few more seconds, then nodded. 

 

***

 

Lucasta leaned on the back of the driver’s seat of the RV, watching the road as they went. She hadn’t said much for the whole of the trip. She stayed inside for every confrontation with the Saviors. She had made eye contact with Simon, though. He knew she was there. 

Which mean Negan knew.

She’d been his wife. For eight long months, she had quietly agreed to the deal: her body in exchange for supplies, shelter, luxuries. She had done what she could to redistribute those supplies to those whose ability to work for it was decreased, to anyone who needed it more than she did.

Because she didn’t need it. She didn’t need the extra food, the thick, warm blankets, the clothes. But her heart broke for the family she saw with a little baby who had survived the end of the world, only to find themselves here, struggling to feed that baby. She took her extra supplies, her cookies, her bottled water down to them after dark, when no one was really watching. She had thought. 

Until someone had been. 

Negan had heard she was skimming supplies, bringing it to people outside. He had heard lies, blown out of proportion by someone who was jealous, someone who wanted a lush life without work, someone else who had wanted her and couldn’t have her. He had been hurt and angry: she’d broken his rules and said to his face that she loved him. And she had no lover for him to punish. 

So he had punished the family.

Lucasta closed her eyes and pressed her face into her arms, begging herself not to cry. She could still hear Jodi screaming as Negan had turned Charlie’s brains to pulp. He had left Jodi and baby Willa alone, leveling a finger at her afterwards to hiss, “Fucking remember this, doll. Your deal’s between you and me. I’m not fucking running a charity house.” His eyes had been hurt when he said it and that haunted her almost as much as Jodi’s weeping.

Because she did love him. 

 

***

 

“Rick, please.” She begged him as they unloaded Maggie and started off into the woods on foot, the sick woman rocking in their stretcher. “Please. You can’t do this. You can’t sneak past him. He’s going to kill us.”

“Lu, you need to be quiet,” Rick snapped, then paused and lowered his voice. “It’s not like we can just go home now. We’re out here and Maggie needs a doctor. We’ve got to get through. And if his people are all spread out to all those other points we’ve already seen them, he can’t have this route covered, too. Nobody has that many people.”

“I’m telling you, Negan does.” Lucasta grabbed his arm and tugged, hard. “Please. Listen to me.”

“I don’t have time for this.” He shrugged her away and kept walking. 

“C’mon,” Michonne said softly, putting an arm around her. “It’ll be okay.”

“No,” Lucasta sighed, shaking her head miserably. “It’s really not.”

 

***

 

The whistles started and it was like falling into a memory. First one place, then another, then another until they were all around and Lucasta wanted to scream. She wanted to bolt, run into the woods.

“I can’t do this,” she gasped to Michonne. “I just can’t. I’m sorry.” Before her friend could reach for her, she sprinted into the darkness. Undergrowth slapped wetly against her jeans and she could feel brush catching in her clothes, her short hair. 

An arm caught her under the ribs, knocking the air out of her in a rush. Lucasta cried out in pain, then lay weakly on the ground, winded. She heard low, cruel laughter, then felt a hand in her hair as the man pulled her back to her feet. “Little lost lamb,” he growled at her, baring his teeth. It was Jack, one of the guards. “Haven’t seen you in a while, Lulu.” He gave her a little shove forward and she bit back a helpless sob. 

The whistling had increased and Jack shoved her into the circle just as she heard Simon call, “Let’s get these folks on their knees. Let’s meet the man.”

Lucasta dropped immediately, letting her body weight bear her down to the ground with a little sob. She looked up, could see Michonne, Rick, Maggie. Her friends all in a row, struggling with their own inner demons. She had tried to tell them. Why couldn’t they have listened?

The door to the familiar RV opened with a squeak and boot steps preceded the man himself as he smiled at them. “Pissing our pants yet?” 

The sound of his voice reached into Lucasta’s chest, curled fingers around her heart and squeezed. She had never once lied to him when she had told him she loved him. She listened to him, walking, strutting. Was it boasting if he was just highlighting the truth? His feet stopped in front of Rick. She could hear him talking but only his voice mattered, not what he said. 

Until he said her name.

“Lucasta.” Her head snapped up as she looked at him, her face streaked with tears. His face was shaken, stunned and he let out a low groan. “Baby, what the fuck are you doing with these shit-for-brains motherfuckers?” The hurt was still there and she clenched her teeth, pushing away her own desperate desire to apologize, to throw herself at his feet and beg for forgiveness. He crouched down in front of her, sitting back on his heels with Lucille swinging between his knees. “Doll, I can’t very fucking well look the other way on this. You know that. Shit.” He reached out and brushed the backs of his gloved fingers down her cheek and she leaned into his hand with a soft, miserable sound. 

“Let them go,” she whispered, her eyes closed. “I’ll come home with you. Be yours. I want to be yours, Negan. Please. Just… let them go.”

His hand closed on her jaw and he jerked her head up a little so she would open her eyes and look at him again. “You’ve always been mine,” he whispered back, half growl, half hiss. “I just misplaced you for a while.” After a second, he let her go and stood up again, returning to pacing the line of survivors. 

And then it began. “Eenie. Meanie. Miney. Mo.”

“Negan!” she screamed in desperation.

“Shut up!” he bellowed back, Lucille suddenly pointing in her face. “I am not fucking done here. Shut the fuck up!” He waited until she put her head back down, but not before she had seen the mingled rage and grief in his eyes. He was including her in this. He had to. “You fucking helped them kill my people, Lu. Our people. How could you fucking do that? It’s a chicken-shit move and I thought you were fucking braver than that. And now.” Lucille tapped up under her chin and Lucasta could feel the barbed wire scraping her skin. “Now you’ve fucking forced my hand.”

He swung away and continued counting off down the line while she wept, curled over herself with her forehead almost to the leaf litter. 

“You can blink. You can breathe. You can cry.”

“No,” she whispered weakly.

“Hell, you’re all gonna be doing that.”

“No!” she screamed out as Lucille came down on Abraham’s skull with a sickening crack. With the next slam, Lucasta found herself on the ground, sobbing. “No, no, no. Negan, please,” she gasped against the ground, begging him. “Please stop.”

“Did you hear that?” Negan laughed. “He said ‘Suck my nuts.’” He wheeled back around as the kneeling group sobbed. His footsteps stopped in front of Lucasta again. “Fuck, baby. You’re going to make me jealous, all those fucking crocodile tears.” He reached down and drew her up until she was kneeling in front of him again. After a moment, he shifted until Lucille was hovering near her face. “Kiss Lucille,” he whispered. “Tell her it’s gonna be okay. That you’re coming home with us.” 

Lucasta sucked in a sobbing breath, then looked up into his face, met those dark, hard eyes. When her eyes met his, the hardness flickered into pain and hope, a sad, soft hunger that told her so much about where his mind was. He twitched the bat closer to her and she closed her eyes again before leaning forward and pressing her lips to the bloody wood. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered hoarsely, feeling broken inside. She knew Rick could hear her, that Michonne could hear her. “I’ll be home tonight, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

Negan ran his fingers through her hair, roughly but still with tenderness. “Was that so hard?” he murmured, then drew a line gently down her cheek. He stood up abruptly and stepped back before snapping, “Simon. Pack her up. Now. I don’t want her out here.”

Simon’s hands on her wrists were hard but careful and Lucasta let him maneuver her, pushing her into a truck and locking her inside while she silently tried to spit away the taste of Abraham’s blood on her lips.


	2. Chapter 2

A year ago, it had been different.

A year ago, the world had been sane.

A year ago, she had been a cubicle monkey, writing copy for a computer tech firm in central Virginia. She’d had an apartment, a dog, a car payment, a lump of a boyfriend who never called.

And then the world died.

She had watched from her apartment couch, Binkley curled against her side. The shaggy Australian shepherd mix had seemed as worried about the reports nationwide of the dead rising up and attacking as she had felt. When the reports started cropping up closer and closer, she had called Lee, desperate to know he was okay.

He was drunk. Grumpy to be awakened. Said she was hallucinating the whole thing. Too many horror movies.

She’d continued to go to work, coming home on her lunch breaks to let Binkley out. But things were breaking down around her. She could see the fear in her coworkers’ eyes, read the trembling fingers through the word choices and stuttered spellings in professional emails.

Lee called her at work. Said he was leaving. Had to get out, things were too weird for him. Told her to get Binkley and meet him at the Boar’s Head and they’d get out, onto the interstate before it got too crowded.

“Now, Lu.”

“I’m at work.”

“Either you get there in half an hour or I’m breaking in and taking him. I’m not fucking leaving without that dog.”

So she’d left work. Claimed a personal day for a headache, but everyone had heard her talking to Lee. Everyone knew she was running. Laura had hugged her before she left, the younger girl shaking in terror. “Be safe, Lu.”

“You, too.”

She went home, walked Binkley to get his bladder clear, then packed up his things and a few of her own, locked up the apartment and headed for the other side of town. On the way past the college grounds, she saw a knot of terrified students climbing some of the Art in Place sculptures to escape one of their friends who was staggering after them, bleeding and gnashing his teeth. Binkley crouched on the seat and whined, his nose twitching at the smells in the air and his eyes worried. “It’s okay, buddy,” she murmured to him and rubbed him behind the ears. “It’s okay.”

When she reached Lee’s meeting place, the parking lot of a massive golf course just outside of town, she found his truck packed with supplies, but sitting empty. A few people were still running around under their own power, but it was starting to look more and more like something from her favorite horror movies. She had called for him, then rang his cell phone, only to realize she could hear his ringtone inside the truck.

Lucasta had gotten out of her car. Keeping Binkley close to her, she had opened the door, hoping he had left a note. The dog had immediately started to snarl and bark before the door was fully open and she had stumbled backwards as what had once been her boyfriend lunged at her, jaw snapping. She had screamed and slammed the door on him, successfully trapping him back inside.

And she had run with Binkley and as many of his supplies as she could fit into her little Kia Rio. They had wandered aimlessly, just desperate to avoid the increasing number of staggering dead. She slept in the car with the dog on her chest, cried into his fur. It didn’t take long to seem like the world really had ended and stealing supplies was just logical. She stole enough canned dog food to keep them going for weeks and packed the trunk with bags of kibble. It wasn’t appetizing, but she knew that dog food could keep her alive, too, if it came to that.

When the Rio ran out of gas, she desperately taught herself to syphon from the numerous abandoned cars. She discovered that she was actually pretty good with a crowbar in a bad situation, even if crushing the skull of a truly disgusting body still made her cry and shake.

The dog kept her from the worst of the mayhem, turning her away with his nose against her thigh when there were people too close or zombies within hearing. He was so smart and so well-trained that Lucasta didn’t even want to consider what might have happened to her without Binkley.

She had eventually run out of gas. She had huddled in the car for two nights after that, hugging her dog and sobbing. She was going to die out here. She just knew it. Binkley had lapped up all her tears and whined softly, keeping her quiet and pressing her flat when zombies were close. It seemed like she should just stay there until the food ran out, then let Binkley go to fend for himself.

That’s where Simon had found her.

***

“Got one.”

Simon looked up as Jack indicated the battered Kia Rio on the side of the road. “Check it.” They edged up to the car while several other Saviors fanned out around them to keep an eye on the walker population.

Jack made a face. “Fresh. Pretty, too. Damn shame.” He jerked back when a dog lunged at the window, growling with a stunning control of volume. “Surprised the pooch hasn’t eaten her yet.”

“Dogs don’t do that, you half-wit,” snapped Simon as he edged closer to peer inside the car. “It’d be like eating your sister.”

“I’d eat her if I had to,” Jack snorted. When Simon gave him a dead-eyed stare, he shrugged. “What. I would.”

“Sick fuck,” sighed Simon and he hammered briefly on the driver’s side window. “Hey!”

Inside, the girl jumped and stared up at them, her startlingly ice-green eyes wide and clear of any hint of infection. She scrambled backwards across the center console and the dog bounced back up between him and her, snarling. “Call him off,” Simon yelled, indicating the dog. Immediately, she said something and the dog’s head snapped back around toward her. He crawled into her lap and she clutched him to her chest, staring back up at Simon fearfully. He held out a hand to her to show he wasn’t holding a weapon, then reached down to open the door while the dog continued to growl. “Hey,” Simon said carefully. “I’m Simon.”

“Lucasta,” she replied in a soft voice that made the dog look back again. “Lucasta Cross.”

“Well, Lucasta Cross,” he said, “you’re in Negan’s territory now. That makes what you’ve got Negan’s.” Those big pale eyes filled up with tears and he sighed, almost feeling bad to push her like this, alone and clinging to her dog. “Unless you can work. I mean, your shit’s still Negan’s, but you can work to get it back. You got a place?” She shook her head, confirming what he already knew. “If you come back with us, you can work for points, earn your keep. We’ve got a safe place, good community, as long as you follow the rules. Can you do that?”

Lucasta stared at him for a long time, then nodded a little. “I’m not leaving without Binkley,” she added suddenly, her fingers tangled in the dog’s fur.

“You’ll have to work for his keep, too,” Simon said. “Don’t see any reason to not bring him, though. So, what’ve you got for us?”

What she had was a trunk full of dog kibble, cans of wet dog food, a case of bottled water, two crowbars, and a small duffle bag of clothes and toiletries. Barely enough to make her worth bringing home. But there was something about her that made Simon look twice. Negan was going to want to see her. He just had that feeling.

***

Lucasta walked along with these strangers, carrying her own duffle and one of the bags of dog food. The others had distributed the rest among themselves and Binkley had been content to walk against her leg, heeling without command. She was glad they had left her one of the crowbars. At least she could fight if she needed to.

After a short hike off the freeway, Simon stopped her and took the bag of food from her, slinging it into the bed of a pickup truck. “Climb in,” he said, indicating the passenger side door.

“Binkley?” she started to ask and he waved a hand without a word, consenting. With the dog braced nervously in her lap, they started to drive to wherever these men’s camp was. “Who’s Negan?” she finally asked.

“Depends on how you look at things,” Simon replied.

Lucasta watched his face for a while, puzzled. “What does that mean?”

Simon glanced at her with a smile. “He’s different things for different people. And in a way, we’re all Negan. So. It depends on how you look at things.”

She fell silent and leaned back with Binkley’s head on her arm. The forest moved past them. She wondered where she was going and what might await her there.

***

Pulling through the gates of the Sanctuary had overwhelmed her. She had shrunk down into herself, staring up at the looming factory building and the snarling mass of fence zombies. She stared in horror at the people moving through the courtyard, working and focused. It was like a beehive of activity. It was like a nightmare.

Simon and the others pulled their vehicles around to the loading areas and started packing all the supplies out and into storage. When she didn’t move, Simon stuck his head into the cab and whispered, “Give us a hand and it’ll look better for you when the man comes ‘round. Trust me.” She nodded and closed Binkley into the truck with the window cracked open, then joined the line of men moving supplies.

“Sweet fucking run, Simon,” a warm voice said from behind her as they finished packing the supplies and started to wind down to catch their breath. She jumped and turned quickly, backing out of his way. The tall man paused to study her, dark hazel eyes thoughtful as he scanned her face. “I don’t know you, dollface. Who the fuck’re you?”

“We found Lucasta and her dog in a broken-down car on 66 just outside of town,” Simon said, pointed back to the truck where Binkley was leaning against the crack in the window, snuffing at the air. “Packed full of dog food and bottled water. Brought her back so she could join up, if you’re okay with her.”

“Lu… Lucasta.” The man stared at her, then shook his head sharply, as if he was seeing a ghost. “That’s a fucking mouthful,” he chuckled and seemed to recover his disposition. “She seems fine, if she can work. Can you, doll?”

“Yes, sir,” she said softly. “I’m good with electronics and computers, if there are any of those still around.”

“Fat fucking chance,” he laughed, then waved for her to continue.

“I… I majored in computer science and technical writing,” she added, ducking her head and suddenly feeling worthless. “But I’m a fast learner. And I’ll work for my keep. And for Binkley.” She looked back and saw the dog wagging his tail at hearing his name. She smiled at him, then looked up at the tall man.

“You’ll have to fucking earn double points,” he commented, “to cover that bitch.”

“Binkley’s a boy,” she replied, studying his boots.

“Son of a bitch, then.” He grinned, then paused and put a hand under her chin, his touch surprisingly gentle. “I’m Negan. And if you work hard for your points, you’re welcome here, Lucasta.”

“Thank you, sir,” she whispered.

Negan had let her go then and walked away, talking to Simon about supply runs and guard duty, leaving her to collect her dog and figure out where to report for work details. All while struggling against the wobbling feeling in her stomach that said, _He doesn’t have to claim you for you to be his._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this to distract myself from the shit-show that is American fucking politics. Enjoy.

They’d put her to work in the gardens. She was good at it and it felt deeply satisfying to push her hands deep into the soil and plant something that might be there tomorrow. It wasn’t difficult work, but that also meant it only earned her enough points to cover her own basic necessities. She didn’t have the points to cover Binkley’s food. 

She slept on a cot in one of the large common rooms. The dog slept on her chest. A few people had complained at first, but when Binkley proved to be quieter than some of the kids living there and all of the snorers, everyone had stopped giving her a hard time about the dog. 

About two weeks after she came, the lookers started to follow her. Men who leered, who smiled in knowing ways, who asked her questions as an excuse to stand too close and try to sneak a peek down her shirt. Lucasta was used to those kinds of men. She’d been putting up with them her whole life. Why should the end of the world be any different?

One of them in particular was bad. A heavy-set man with hair a little too long to look right and a little too greasy to look clean. His name was Doug and he was a friend of Jack, one of the men who had brought her in. He asked her a few times if she’d like to spend the night with him and she’d always recoiled and politely declined, her face flaming with a blush. But he never went far, always hounding her.

And then there was Negan. 

Negan, who stopped her breath in her chest when he walked by.

Negan, who commanded immediate respect by existing. 

Who expected everyone on their knees when he passed.

And who never seemed to notice that Lucasta was the first one there, like her knees had gone soft at the sight of him.

The first time he noticed, she was already there to begin with. On her knees in the North garden, she had been planting carrot seedlings in rows. Her plants always did well. She remembered planting mint and sage in pots on the windowsill in her apartment and talking to them when she watered them. So she kept talking to plants, whispering to them and breathing out her carbon dioxide for them, as they breathed their oxygen back to her. She had been so deeply engrossed with telling her carrots about how beautiful the sunrise had been that she didn’t hear the boot steps approaching.

“Now that is a fucking beautiful sight.”

Lucasta had gasped and spun on her knees to face him, then found herself unable to even look up into his face, instead bowing her head and curling her hands into the soil, trembling. Negan walked closer and she felt him like a shadow, like the radiant heat of an enclosed wood-burning stove. “Oh, dollface,” he sighed softly and she lifted her chin, able to look at his feet, the scuffed toes of his boots. His hand lightly brushed against her hair and she closed her eyes, still shaking. “I can’t tell if you’re fucking terrified of me or ready to cream yourself. I’m seriously not fucking used to not being able to tell.” When she didn’t move or answer, he crouched down in front of her and she could see him tilting his head, trying to meet her eyes. “Look at me, doll.” She managed to bring her eyes up to his face in a fleeting glance, then refocused on the collar of his jacket, still unable to meet his eyes. 

Negan sighed and Lucasta swayed slightly, able to smell his skin, soap and something spicy underlying. She started to tremble again, unable to gain control of her senses. “Lucasta, right?” he asked and she nodded. “You doing okay here?” She nodded again. “Getting enough of everything? Nobody bothering you?” She had hesitated and glanced up into his face for a second before she looked away again. Negan’s voice hardened, “You tell them no and they’ll back off. They’d fucking better. They know I won’t tolerate that shit. I’ll knock it right out of the fucking park.” 

When she still didn’t speak, Negan shifted and sat in the dirt in front of her, crossing his long legs in front of him so he could lean forward on his knees. “I know you can talk. I’ve heard you. Are you really that scared of me?”

“No,” she squeezed the word out breathlessly before flicking her eyes over his face again. What she saw in his eyes shocked her right down to her core and she looked down again, tipping forward to push her hands back into the soil. He looked at her like a treasure, something rare and beautiful like a perfectly preserved flower or a crystal sculpture. 

“I won’t hurt you,” he said, his voice low. “Unless you want me to. That’s something different, though.” He gave a rough chuckle that faded when she didn’t laugh or look up again. “Oh, baby,” he whispered then and she felt her breath catch in her throat, “look at me, please.” Slowly, still shaking, she pulled her head up until she could look him in the eyes. His dark hazel eyes seemed to go on forever and she wondered how long her chest could stay still before she passed out from lack of oxygen. Because she couldn’t breathe with him looking at her like that. “Those eyes,” he whispered and reached slowly out to brush a thumb down her cheek. “God damn, you’re fucking gorgeous.” She gave a short, gasping breath and he smiled, recognizing the quietly desperate hunger in her expression. “You aren’t scared shitless of me. Good to know.” He leaned in, still stroking her cheek with his thumb. “Can I kiss you, dollface?”

“Please,” she whispered, her voice trembling as much as her arms and stomach. 

His mouth pressed against hers and she whimpered, a tiny, hungry sound that made him chuckle deep in his chest. His gloved fingers crept back and into her hair as he kissed her and Lucasta felt like she was falling through an endless sea of sensation with his lips on hers and his tongue gently probing into her mouth. When he disengaged from that kiss and leaned back to look at her face, she was breathing hard and shaking even harder than before. “Marry me, Lu,” he whispered. 

Lucasta knew the score. Negan had more than one wife. They lived in luxury, without having to work for points like everyone else. Their only job was to be ready if Negan wanted them. A little finger of despair worked down through her chest and she looked down and away from him again. She wasn’t talented that way. She would bore him. She was too fragile, too afraid. Too soft. He would use her and discard her like a used condom. Break her. She wanted him, wanted desperately to be his. But she knew better than to hope for it in a way that wouldn’t be like a moth flying into the flame of an open bonfire. She could be consumed in a puff of ash and butterfly dust. “I want to be useful,” she finally said softly.

“You are useful,” he replied. “My wives are always useful.”

“Could… could I still work in the gardens?” she whispered hopefully, letting her eyes come back up to meet his. “Not for points. Just… just because I like the plants?” His face twisted slightly in distaste at the idea and she looked down again quickly, not wanting to see his disappointment in her. 

“Then you’re taking someone else’s points,” he murmured. “That’s work they could be doing for points that you’re doing for free. That sound fucking fair to you?”

“No,” she admitted, her head low.

Negan was quiet, his thumb still tracing a slow line along her jaw. “You don’t have to say yes,” he whispered. “I’m not forcing anyone. I can’t stand that kind of fucking shit. Won’t stand for it. Just say no if you don’t want to.”

She looked back into his eyes and watched him suck a breath in between his teeth.”Damn, girl,” he smiled. “You want to say yes. What’s keeping you?”

“I want to be useful,” she repeated. 

“You wouldn’t have to work for points to cover the dog anymore,” he said. “You could keep him. Fair and square. No more skimping on meals.” He paused and smiled when she blushed. “Yeah, I’ve fucking seen you sneaking him half your damn meals. I’m not blind.”

“He’s all I’ve got,” she said in a small voice.

“I’m trying to give you a way to keep him,” Negan urged gently. “Marry me, babe.”

Before she could answer, the sound of a dog in distress reached them and they both looked up. “Binkley?” Lucasta whispered, then took off down the path at a sprint, Negan close on her heels. “Binkley!!”

She came into the courtyard and scrambled to a stop when she saw the three men holding her dog, one of them roughly gripping his collar and the other two laughing and wrestling over who could grab his legs. “Leave him alone!” she screamed and threw herself at Doug, who had her dog’s collar. 

The man snorted sharply and gave her a little shove, knocking her back. “Little dog-fucker,” he snarled at her. “We’re taking your boyfriend and throwing him to the fence. Maybe then you’ll show some interest in your own fucking species.”

“No!” Lucasta screamed and tried to claw his hands free from the dog who whimpered and writhed. Binkley was smart enough to know his best chance was to get loose from the collar and he was focusing all his energy on trying to slip loose. He wouldn’t even snarl or snap, only whimper and writhe. “Leave him alone!”

“What the goddamn fuckity fuck is going on out here!?” Negan roared as he arrived. 

Instantly, the gathered crowd dropped to their knees. The men holding Binkley froze in place and the dog took his chance to squirm free of Doug’s grip, leaping into Lucasta’s arms as she fell to her knees and clung to him, sobbing. 

Negan paced into the clearing, Lucille swinging stiffly in his hand. Every line of his body howled with rage and he glared at the three men. “I asked you a fucking question,” he snarled.

“We weren’t gonna hurt him,” protested one of the other men. Lucasta didn’t even know his name. “We were just trying to scare her a little.”

“Scare her into what?” Negan growled, leaning closer and thumping the bat against the ground once. When none of them answered, he glared back and forth. “What exactly is going the fuck on here anyway? You want her? You ask politely. She says no, you back the fucking fuck off.” He leaned back and looked to where Lucasta was still clinging to Binkley and sobbing. “Lu, any of these boys asked you?” She looked up, sniffled and nodded. “You interested in horizontal tango with any of these motherfuckers?” When she shook her head, he turned back to them, pegging each with a long glare. “There. She’s said no. You back the fucking fuck off.”

Slowly, reluctantly, the men started to creep off to where they were supposed to be. Negan watched them all, especially Doug who was still giving Lucasta poisonous glares. Before he left the clearing, though, Doug darted close to Lucasta and hissed at her, “Dog-fucking cunt.”

Negan saw the blood drain from her face, the disgust and horror in her expression as she drew away. “What did you say?” he asked Doug in a low voice. When Doug looked back defiantely without answering, Negan stepped closer. “What. The FUCK. Did you just say?” 

“Nothing,” Doug spat back.

“Oh.” Negan rocked back on his heels with a vicious smile on his face. “Now you’re just fucking making it simple for me.” He turned away, swinging Lucille easily from his right hand. “Apologize for your fucking language, you slimy-ass motherfucker.” When Doug said nothing, Negan looked over his shoulder with a little shrug. “Nothing? Well.” 

Lucille flashed out with a sickening crack into the side of Doug’s head. The man reeled and landed on the ground with a juicy, confused grunt. Negan leaned over him, head tilted. “You know why this is happening to you? You greased-up Snape-a-like? Because you fucking LIED.” He reared back with the bat over his head.

“Look away, baby.” Lucasta looked up in surprise. She’d heard his voice, rumbled low like he was breathing it against her ear. “I don’t want you to see this.” His eyes flicked to her face, just a split second as he hung there, waiting for her to look away. 

And so she did.

She curled her face into Binkley’s fur and turned herself so her back was to the scene, clinging to the dog like her life depended on it.

“You DON’T FUCKING LIE to ME,” Negan was bellowing, punctuating his sentence with cracks from the bat against Doug’s skull. And what was left of Doug’s skull. And finally the ground under the bloody paste that was Doug’s skull. When he was satisfied, Negan rocked back on his heels and studied the blood and brain-spattered length of Lucille. “There’s my good girl,” he murmured cheerfully to the bat. He looked up to the crowd. “Get this shit out of my sight,” he said, waving at Doug’s body as he turned away.


	4. Chapter 4

_ Now _

Lucasta huddled in the truck, hugging her knees to her chest. Through the glass and metal, she could hear Negan continuing to talk, then a series of shouts and a scuffle. Screams and Negan’s rough laughter. When she heard Maggie scream Glen’s name, she turned back and tried to see, already crying. What had happened? She couldn’t see, not through the glass and not through her tears. 

And then the RV rocked. Its engine roared to life. It pulled out and away, clearing the path so she could see where her friends still huddled. Abraham’s body. The bloody pulp that had once been Glen. Maggie weeping. Michonne looking stunned and a little panicked. And no sign of Rick. Terrified, Lucasta pushed up against the glass, straining to see. Maybe he had just moved back behind someone? There was no way…

A hand slapped the glass near her face and she recoiled in surprise. Simon gave her a long stare, then unlocked the door and opened it. “Are you okay?” he asked in a low voice. Negan’s right-hand had always been strangely kind to her. She appreciated it, even if she didn’t quite understand. 

“I’m okay, Simon,” she said quietly, keeping her eyes low. “Just… scared. But that’s what this was supposed to do, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He sighed and reached to give her hand a little squeeze. “Binkley misses you.”

Lucasta looked up with a small smile. “He’s okay?”

“Of course he’s okay. You don’t think Negan would let anything happen to your fucking dog, do you?” Simon smiled at the light in the girl’s eyes. “He won’t say it, but I think he loves the dog as much as he loves you.”

Lucasta blushed and looked down again, examining her fingernails, then chewing the edge of one that was rough.

“He’s been worried about you.” When she didn’t answer, Simon shifted his feet and leaned against the open door. “I know you didn’t do it. Not like it got back to him, anyway.” Lucasta looked up at him, her pale eyes worried but hopeful. “I’ve been trying to talk to him. But you know how he is.”

“I do,” she agreed. She shifted uncomfortably on the seat, then whispered, “Where’s Rick?”

“Negan took him.”

Lucasta closed her eyes on the tears that started to leak out again. “No.”

“Lu, I don’t think he’ll kill him,” Simon said. “Maybe mess him up, scare him. He threatened to kill him, you know. Said it with this lazy confidence. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow.”

“That’s Rick,” sighed Lucasta. She shook her head miserably and leaned against the back of the seat. “I tried to tell them. I tried to get them to cut a deal. They just… wouldn’t listen.”

“Did you really help them kill our people?” Simon’s voice was low and hurt.

Lucasta looked up at him and bit her lip. “I tried to give them intel that would get them around as many people as possible, Simon. You’ve got to believe me. I was trying to limit loss of life.”

“Kind of like pulling teeth with a wrecking ball.”

Lucasta winced. “Yeah. Well. Again, that’s Rick.”

Simon sighed quietly and patted the back of her hand. “He’s hurt, Lu. Really hurt. But I don’t think it’s over yet. I think he means it when he says you can come home.” When her head came up quickly, he smiled at the hope in her eyes. “There’s gonna have to be something paid, though.”

She ducked and nodded. “I know.”

“You think you can handle it?”

Lucasta peeked at him through her bangs and gave him a small smile. “I know I can.”

 

***

 

They stayed like that for a while, just talking quietly until the RV rolled back in with a bump. Simon looked up and sighed. “I need to go. You need to stay here. He doesn’t want you out there for what’s coming.”

“Simon,” Lucasta said softly, reaching to touch his arm. “Please. Don’t let him kill anyone else. Please?”

Simon smiled, a sad curl of his lips before he gave her hand a squeeze. “I’ll try.” When she tucked herself back into the cab of the truck, he closed the door and locked it again before returning to the clearing.

Lucasta curled back up again, hugging herself and keeping her eyes closed. She kept hoping that closing her eyes would block out the sounds, too, but it never worked. She could still hear his voice, talking, laughing, gloating. 

Every time Negan killed someone, she had held his face in her hands afterwards and begged him to not do it again. Yes, the loss of life was terrible, something that never completely left her heart or mind, but that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst was watching a good man degrade. Because she had seen the good man in the monster that was Negan. She had seen the easy smile that came when he was genuinely happy. The way his hands touched her when he wasn’t lust-hungry, only seeking her nearness. The way Binkley rolled onto his back for belly rubs from the man who had to command that kind of obedience from his men. 

But each and every time she had watched him kill, she saw some of that light leave his eyes. He was destroying himself, piece by piece, with each blow he dealt from that damned bat. She closed her eyes tightly and let herself weep into her hands. For Abraham. For Glen. And for the man who had killed them.

Finally, the door unlocked again and she sniffled, sitting up. It was Negan this time and his eyes searched her face slowly, longingly. “C’mere, baby,” he whispered and held out his arms. With a little sob, Lucasta launched into his arms and buried her face in his shoulder. 

“No more,” she begged him, clinging with her arms around his neck. “Please, Negan.”

He sighed and held her close, resting his lips against her temple for a moment. “You know I can’t fucking promise that, doll. And you know why, too.” When she started to cry again, he let out a long, unraveling breath and slipped one hand up into her hair, holding her head against his shoulder while he rubbed her back with the other hand. “Please, Lu. Don’t cry. If I stop, we lose everything. Everything will fucking go straight to shit. It’s the only way to keep things in line.”

“Let it go to shit,” she whispered and he flinched, hugging her tightly. “I can’t keep doing this, Negan. I can’t watch you kill yourself like this. There’s gonna be a day when I just… can’t anymore.”

“Aw, hell--”

“Let me finish.” Lucasta pushed her face against his neck and sniffled quietly. “I love you, Negan. I mean that. Always have. But there’s gonna be a day when you’re gone. You’ll still be walking around, but you… you won’t be there anymore.” He fisted his hand in her hair for a moment, then went still again when she whispered, “Please. Listen to me.”

“I’m listening.” 

And Lucasta could feel that he was. When Negan listened, he listened with his whole body, hyper-aware of every breath she took, every movement she made, every word she said, every single thing about her. He was like that now, hushed and waiting, listening to her. She took a deep breath and continued, “The only consolation for me is that the day I leave you will be the day you don’t want me there. You won’t care that I’m gone. Because you’ll already be gone.” She shifted so she could see his face, cupping one hand to his rough cheek. “The man I love will be gone someday,” she whispered. “That’s when I’ll leave you.”

He exhaled and searched her face. “But not before.”

“No.”

Negan closed his eyes and held her tightly, rocking slowly back and forth with her clutched to his chest. “Come home with me, Lu,” he whispered, begging. “I missed you.”

She smiled against his skin and nuzzled into his neck. “I already promised Lucille I would,” she said. “You know I wouldn’t lie to her.” She squeaked softly when he stepped back from the truck, pulling her from her perch on the seat and carrying her with him. “Negan…”

He didn’t answer her, just kept walking, so she wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to him like a monkey, her face buried in his shoulder as he carried her along. After a second, he shifted her to one hip and she giggled softly, blushing. “I can walk,” she whispered.

“I know. I just don’t fucking care.”

But he did care and she clenched her jaw when she saw what he was doing. He was going to walk through the clearing, show them that he had her and that she wanted to be there. Past her friends, past the bodies of two of theirs. Shame made her bite her lip and she pushed her face deeper into his shoulder. “Don’t,” she half-sobbed. “Negan, please.”

He paused, right at the edge of the clearing. She felt his arm around her tighten, possessive. “Why?”

“Don’t… use me.” Lucasta bit her lip and tilted her head to meet his eyes. “They already know I’m coming with you. You don’t have to do this.” Her pleading seemed to make him flinch and his eyes closed quickly, his jaw clenching and releasing. Nervous, hopeful, Lucasta nosed against his tight jaw. “Please. Carry me like you love me. Not like I’m a tool.”

Negan stopped and leaned his face against hers, closing his eyes so his lashes brushed her cheek. “I do love you.” Slowly, with consideration, he put her down on her feet again, then leaned down and kissed her. “Bike’s on the other side of the clearing,” he told her in a soft voice. “I’ll see you there?” The hope in his voice broke her heart and Lucasta reached up to wrap herself around his neck again, dragging him down to kiss him.

“I’ll see you there,” she promised.

 

***

 

She watched him strut past the people who had been her family for the last two months. Watched him rub Rick’s face in the dirt once more, taunt Carl again. Roughly shove Daryl into the back of a hatchback, having decided to take him along. Surprisingly, she felt a little comfort knowing that Daryl would be there.

They could give each other hope.

She worked her way around the clearing, edging past the shadows of parked vehicles and the movement of men. When she could see Negan’s bike, she started to move more quickly, relief starting to spread through her chest. Almost home.

“Where are you going? Little bitch.” The blow came from nowhere to the back of her right knee and Lucasta cried out, crumpling to the ground. Jack stood over her, swinging his rifle comfortably at knee height, in case she had missed where the strike had come from. “You got my buddy killed. You know that?”

“Doug got himself killed,” she hissed back, rolling carefully until she could gather her legs under her. “Jack, please. Don’t be an idiot.” There was movement near the clearing and she looked back fearfully. Negan was wrapping things up. He’d want to leave soon. She had to be at the bike when that happened.

“I’m not the idiot,” snorted Jack and the cocking of his rifle made Lucasta turn slowly to stare at him, her stomach turning to water. “You are. You should have stayed the fuck away for good, bitch. I said I’d kill you. And now I’m gonna.” Lucasta closed her eyes, feeling tears starting to creep down her face. She couldn’t bolt fast enough to avoid the shot. She had one hope: that Negan would get there first. “Oh, boo hoo,” Jack taunted her. “Just gonna stand there and cry? Such a fucking bitch.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Negan’s voice was quiet and dangerous, the vicious edge honed to glittering brightness. 

“She was trying to run,” Jack said quickly. Lucasta could hear the pride in his voice: he’d planned his lie ahead of time. 

“Really.” Lucasta could feel Negan moving past her to stand between her and the guard. “And you fucking think I’ll believe your shit-smelling word over hers?” His hand shot out and Lucasta flinched when he grabbed the barrel of the rifle and shoved it down to the ground. “She and I have an agreement, cocksucker. Not that different from the one I have with you, actually. You kneel when I say kneel.” Negan stepped closer to Jack, who tried to step back and found himself pressed against the grill of a 4x4. “So fucking KNEEL.”

Jack wavered, then dropped down slowly to one knee, his head down and the rifle limp in front of him. 

“All the way,” Negan snarled.

The other man paused, looked up to see Negan’s face, then tucked his other leg under until he was kneeling on both knees. 

Negan tapped the top of his head with Lucille and growled in a low, angry voice. “All the fucking way, dumbass.” Slowly, Jack let Negan push him down to all fours on the ground. “Stay like that.” He looked up at Lucasta with a small smile. “C’mere, baby.” She pleaded with him silently, but didn’t quite shake her head. He held out a hand and she finally came to him, slipping her fingers into his. “Alley-oop.” With his hands steadying her, Lucasta stepped up onto Jack’s back, which put her face almost even with Negan’s. “That’s better,” he smiled, letting his hands fall to her hips. Near the ground, Jack grunted softly and Lucasta closed her eyes, blushing hard. “Learned your fucking lesson yet, Jackie?”

“Yes, sir,” Jack whispered.

“I can’t fucking hear you.”

“Yes, sir!” Jack replied, louder this time. 

“Good.” Negan slid his hands around Lucasta’s waist and pulled her against him. She wrapped her legs around him again, like she had before and he settled her close to his chest. “Don’t fucking forget it, dickweed.” He kicked Jack in the elbow, causing him to roll onto the ground, then stepped over him and walked to the cluster of motorcycles. Lucasta peeped over his shoulder just long enough to see the red-hot stare of hatred on Jack’s face, then buried her nose in Negan’s scarf, letting herself tremble.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First half is totally plot-related and safe for work. The second half is pure smut. Enjoy. Don't say I never gave you anything (or that I didn't warn you).

_ Then _

“Dollface, if I find you a way to be useful that doesn’t take anyone’s points, will you marry me?” Negan sat beside the garden while Lucasta dug her fingers around the cucumber plants. She looked up at him in surprise. He had been visiting her like this at least once a week for almost two months now, ever since the incident with Doug and Binkley. She had never told him to stop, never said “no” to his requests to visit. So he had continued. In all that time, this was the first time he had brought up his request to marry her again.

She considered his question for a while, her hands still black with the rich gardening soil she had been working with all morning. Finally, she looked back up at him and nodded. “Yes.”

Negan’s face transformed into a genuine smile of delight. There was no malice there, no cynical laughter, no sadism. Just pure, unadulterated pleasure. “You mean it?” In that one moment, the smile had taken years off his age and he looked like a child at Christmas. “You really fucking mean it? You’ll be my wife?”

“If you can find me something to do,” she agreed in a small voice. “I don’t want to just be your toy, Negan. I want to contribute.”

“Gorgeous, you are not a fucking toy,” he sighed and came to sit closer to her, reaching to touch her face. “I want to play with you, sure, but I’m serious when I say I want you.” Lucasta leaned forward to let him cradle her face in his palm. “Fuck. I want you so fucking bad.”

Lucasta opened her eyes and smiled shyly at him, then turned her head slightly to kiss his wrist. “Then find me something to do. Because I want you, too.”

Negan groaned in the back of his throat and leaned in to kiss her, tasting her with soft, tender movements of tongue and lips. “What can you do, beautiful?”

His kiss was so sweet that Lucasta forgot how to speak for a moment, trembling and just hovering there, her eyes closed. She heard him chuckle, though, then opened her eyes again, blushing. “I… I’m good with plants. Computers. Animals. I trained Binkley from a puppy and dogs in general like me. And I write a little. I mean, I minored in technical writing in college because it was practical. But…”

Negan smiled at her, keeping his face close to hers as she rambled nervously. He stroked her face gently and murmured, “What do you write, dollface?”

“Lyrics,” she whispered, looking away and blushing brightly. “Poetry. It’s not very good.”

“Lyrics,” he repeated thoughtfully. “You sing?” When Lucasta nodded, his grin widened and he slowly licked his lips before brushing another kiss across her mouth. “You play?” She nodded again, her breath rushing against his skin. “What do you play?”

“Guitar,” she breathed. “Piano. I played flute and clarinet in high school.”

“If I find you a guitar, will you play for me?” 

With a soft intake of breath, she met his eyes and gasped, “Yes.”

“And sing?”

“If you want me to.”

Negan stroked her face and kissed her again. “Sing for me, pretty bird.”

Lucasta blushed and tilted her head. “Really?” Negan grinned and nodded, so she shifted and cleared her throat, trying to find a good place to start. “Even though we ain’t got money, I’m so in love with you, honey, and everything will bring a chain of love, in the morning when I rise, you bring a tear of joy to my eyes, telling me everything’s gonna be alright.” Her voice was sweet and clear, though she could feel the rust on it from disuse and her tone was off until she adjusted.

The second her voice settled into the notes, Negan’s eyes closed and he sighed. He cupped her face in his hands as she sang the chorus of the old folk song, then she blushed. “I… I can’t remember the verses. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck, babe,” he whispered back. “Never apologize for singing like that.” His long fingers caressed her face and he added, “Will singing for me make you feel useful? Or do you still need more?”

Lucasta blushed brightly and tucked her chin. “Singing isn’t useful. It’s just pretty.”

With his fingers still resting on her skin, Negan leaned in and kissed her again, slowly. “Pretty is useful,” he murmured. “I like pretty.” She let out a soft sound, not quite a moan and he grinned, gently working his fingers up into her hair. “Fuck, baby, be mine.”

Lucasta paused breathlessly, then laughed, “Yours for a song?”

“For every song,” Negan whispered, brushing her lips with his own. “For everything you know, and can play and can sing. For all the songs you’ll write. Please. Be mine.”

With a quiet smile, Lucasta leaned in and kissed him. “You swear less when you’re sincere.”

“Swearing takes words.” Negan drew her against him and kissed her again and again, trailing his lips down her neck when she melted against him. “Takes too long.” 

She reached to put her arms around him, then squeaked softly and stopped. “I’m all dirty.”

He grinned. “My dirty girl.”

Blushing, Lucasta shook her head. “No, I mean my hands. I’m all muddy. I don’t want to get you dirty.”

Negan paused to study her face, then smiled, that same genuine smile as before. “Oh, fuck me, honey. Get me as dirty as you want. It washes off.” He watched the deepening blush on her cheeks and grinned. “Maybe you can even help me clean up afterwards.” Her breath came harder and he half-closed his eyes, pulling her closer. “Would you like that?”

“Yes,” Lucasta whispered. 

“Marry me?” he growled softly in her ear before kissing her neck in slow, lingering kisses. “Sing for me?” 

“Yes,” she whispered again, her eyes closed as she leaned into him. 

“Fuck me?” he rasped, giving her skin a light nip with the edges of his teeth. 

“God, yes,” Lucasta gasped and let her soil-blackened hands run up into his hair as he kissed her. 

“Music to my fucking ears,” Negan growled and kissed her roughly, overwhelming her with his presence until she could only cling to him and pant. “I officially fucking relieve you from this shit duty job,” he added, scooping her up and against him. “C’mon, dollface. Let me show you where you belong.”

She clung to him as he scooped her up and half-tossed her over his shoulder. She giggled when he slapped her butt with one hand to settle her there. She curled her fingers into his shirt to help keep herself from sliding back down his broad back.

And Negan started walking.

He strutted, proud and satisfied without even having to do more than taste her. With Lucasta clinging to his shoulder and her ass in his hand, he was the cat with the canary, the fox in the henhouse. Several people looked up as he strode past them, watching with expressions ranging from jealousy to amusement to discomfort. 

And Lucille was forgotten beside the garden tools.

 

***

 

When he got to the door, Negan kicked it open and tossed Lucasta onto the bed, where she squeaked and bounced to a stop, curled in a ball. He closed the door after him and locked it before walking back over to where she was slowly uncurling. He braced his arms on either side of her and smiled down as she rolled onto her back and looked up at him. “Now there’s what I was fucking looking for,” he murmured when she smiled. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

“Kiss me,” she begged, leaning up to touch his face, leaving little streaks of dirt on his cheeks. “Please, Negan. Kiss me.” Without a word, he slipped one hand under her head and pulled her quickly up to his mouth. Lucasta moaned, a little thready sound of pleasure and hunger that had Negan kissing her harder, driven by her voice. Her hands tangled in his hair and he growled, reaching with one hand to fight the button and zipper of her jeans. Once he had the fly open, his hand glided quickly down the back of her pants to cup her ass through her panties. “God,” Lucasta gasped, her head dropping back. 

Negan laughed and kissed her exposed neck. “This your first time, doll?” he murmured. “‘Cuz you’re acting like nobody’s ever fucking touched you.” When her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt and yanked hard, she surprised another laugh out of him and he obligingly shrugged out of his shirt. “Easy, there! You’ll rip it and I like this one.” Once the shirt was off and he was braced on his arms over her again, he saw something in her face that made him stop.

Lucasta looked at him, her icy eyes wide and round. She reached up and touched his skin, traced the tattoos, trailed her fingers through his chest hair, down his belly. Negan shivered and lowered his head with a low groan when she reached the fly of his jeans and her hand just kept going, right past his belt and into his shorts. She didn’t even bother unfastening anything, just pressed her hand closer to his skin until she found was she was looking for. He growled, unable to keep the sound inside when her fingers curled around his erection and stroked him. “Not my first time,” she whispered in his ear. “Is that okay?”

“Fuck yes, baby,” he groaned and buried his face in her neck as she stroked him. “I don’t fucking judge.” He slipped his hands under her back, sinking down to his elbows and kissing her neck and collarbone slowly. It didn’t take long for his breathing to become ragged from her touch and he nipped her skin lightly. “Hold up.” Her fingers tightened and he groaned again. “I said fucking hold up, doll, not harder.”

She giggled softly in his ear and her hand slipped slowly out of his pants again. “Sorry,” she whispered. “Got excited.” 

“Never fucking apologize for that, sugar.” Negan smiled and kissed her mouth, taking his time about it. He worked his hands up under her shirt, listening to her soft, eager, whimpering sounds when his fingers found her skin. “God damn, you’re hot,” he growled against her lips. Negan rocked back so she could sit up and together they peeled her shirt off over her head. He paused to study her pale skin, peppered in freckles down her arms and chest. “Irish much?” he teased her with a grin. 

“A little,” she agreed, blushing. When he ran his thumbs over her nipples standing up through the fabric of her bra, Lucasta gasped and closed her eyes, hands coming up to his wrists quickly. “Careful,” she whispered, trembling.

“You okay?” he asked, surprised by her reaction. Slowly, Negan put his hands on her ribs, letting his hands lay flat against her skin. 

Lucasta opened her eyes and Negan grinned at the blush there. “You’ve got to promise something first,” she whispered, chewing her lip. 

Negan raised his eyebrows in amusement, but nodded. “Sure. Anything you fuckin’ say, doll.”

“Don’t laugh.” Lucasta squirmed, obviously nervous and embarrassed. “Please, just don’t laugh.” His eyebrows still raised, Negan carefully composed himself and nodded solemnly. When she was sure he was serious, Lucasta gave him a quick little smile, then leaned forward to reach back and unfasten her bra. 

When she let the cups fall, he sucked in a slow breath between his teeth. “Holy fucking shit, sweetheart,” he groaned, then leaned to gently brush the barbel through her nipple with his lips. “I did not fucking see that coming.” When he gently tongued the piercing, she gasped sharply and her head fell back again. He teased her, careful and gentle in spite of the roughness of his hands on her skin. “Does it hurt?”

“Only… if you’re rough,” she gasped breathlessly. “Just thought you should know.”

Negan made a soft, gravelly sound in his throat as he stroked the tip of his tongue along the warm metal. “Fucking damn. You’re full of surprises.” Lucasta’s answer was little more than an inarticulate moan and he chuckled. “Doin’ okay?”

“Fuck me,” she begged, her voice thready. “God, Negan.”

He gave a low chuckle and moved his hands lower to push her jeans and panties down. “I’m gettin’ there, dollface. Just hold your fucking horses.” She writhed under his hands and he chuckled again, kissing her belly down to her hip. She shivered and whimpered when he rubbed his chin against her skin. Slowly, he paused and watched her face as she trembled, waiting. “How ready are you, doll?”

Lucasta whined and lifted her hips, then peeked down at him, breathless. “Negan, please.”

He chuckled and leaned forward, teasing her with a slow exhale of breath against her skin. “Answer me, dollface,” he growled and stroked her thigh with his chin. 

“I’m ready,” she gasped and lifted her hips again. 

With a low growl, Negan worked his jeans down and braced himself over her again. “How fucking ready?” he rumbled, erection tapping against her thigh. 

Lucasta’s face was flushed brightly, but she arched her back, still begging. “I ache, Negan. Please. I’m so ready.” 

“That’s what I want to hear,” he growled and slid one hand under her head, kissing her roughly. At the breathy, hungry sound of her voice, he pulled her close and slid his erection along her skin, probing along the wetness of her labia. “God… fucking damn. So wet,” he groaned as he pushed himself into her. Her voice broke into hoarseness at her first scream and Negan clutched at her, breathing hard. “Fuck.”

“Yes, please,” she gasped in his ear and he groaned again. When he pressed tighter into her, she gave a soft sound and she reared up to nip at his ear. “So ready.” Startled, Negan gasped and twitched sharply, his hips rocking her backwards on the bed. With a little yelp, Lucasta wrapped her legs around him and clung, begging in little breathy gasps in his ear until a long groan spiralled out of him and Negan collapsed against her. 

“Babydoll,” Negan groaned softly against her neck. “I… think I’m fucking spoiled.” When she giggled he nosed against her shoulder slowly and grinned. “No, I’m really fucking serious. You’re fucking awesome. Your pussy is like a fucking vacuum. I never want to leave.”

Lucasta grinned at him and kissed his mouth slowly. “Thank you,” she whispered. She paused and ran her fingers through his hair. “Oops,” she giggled softly. “There’s mud in your hair.”

“And pussy on my cock,” he grunted cheerfully. Her hands moved slowly through his hair, working the clots of mud free. “Wanna help me clean it all off?”

“Yes,” she whispered. 

Negan paused to study her face and then let a slow, genuine smile cross his lips. “You… are going to spoil me rotten, sweetheart,” he murmured softly. “I think I love it.”

“Good,” she purred and leaned up when he tilted his head to press his lips against hers.


	6. Chapter 6

“Hold up!” Negan stopped dead in the middle of the road, the motorcycle growling under him. A slow, eager smile crept over his face and he looked up to where Simon had pulled up beside him. “I need to check this out. Set up a perimeter on this block.” He rolled the bike to the curb and cut the engine before grinning back at his second-in-command and vanishing inside the music store.

“Seriously?” Simon called after him, then sighed, arranging the group into a perimeter to guard Negan’s back. “I don’t even know anymore,” he snapped, cutting Jack off when the other man opened his mouth to question the decision. “Just do it.”

Once things were settled, he walked in after Negan and found the big man in the process of taking down a pair of walkers, one in a polo shirt with a name tag on it and the other a younger boy in the uniform of a nearby parochial school. Quickly, Simon grabbed the smaller one by the back of the shirt and stabbed into its head, dropping it. 

“Thanks,” Negan said calmly as he finished the staff walker. “You know jackshit about instruments, Simon?” he asked and tossed the corpse to the side of the room. 

“Instruments?” Simon echoed weakly and followed as Negan walked to the wall of guitars on display. “I mean, I guess. Learned a little guitar, like any kid in the 70s. Why?”

“Lu wants a guitar.” His eyes scanned the bank of dusty instruments. “What the fuck am I supposed to get her?” He reached up and pulled down an electric guitar and stared at it, holding it nervously like he thought it would bite him.

“Not an electric,” Simon said quickly. “No juice and you’d have to get an amp, too. Something acoustic.” He hopped the counter and started going down the line until he found a smaller-bodied acoustic. “This might work. It’s smaller, so it’ll probably fit her better.” He handed it to Negan by the neck and watched with amusement as Negan took it carefully. “Do you know if she uses a pick or finger picks?”

Negan glared at him. “I asked for advice, limp dick. Not to feel like fucking shit for not knowing.”

“Sorry, boss.” Simon flinched back. He walked down to where the guitar accessories were and started pulling replacement strings, guitar picks, a capo, and a few other odds and ends before he grabbed a gig bag that should fit the small acoustic. “I didn’t mean to. This should be enough to start,” he added, handing over the collection. “If she snaps strings, we’ll need to get her more, but that shouldn’t be hard.” 

“Thanks.” Negan opened the gig bag and tucked the guitar and its gear inside. “I owe you a drink for this.”

“Call it even if I can take a guitar back?”

Negan raised an eyebrow and shrugged, “If you want one, fucking go for it, man.” He shrugged the bag’s shoulder strap over his shoulder and threaded it over his head. “Take your time.” As he left Simon to browse, he paused near the books and asked, “Think I should get her some music books?”

“Probably wouldn’t hurt,” agreed Simon as he took down one of acoustics to test the tuning. “Look for a beginner’s book. She might need a refresher.”

Negan looked over the mind-boggling variety of books, then picked two beginner’s guitar books, a book of folk songs like the one she’d sung for him, and a book of love songs. He tucked the last one between the others before stuffing them all in his pack and heading back out to the bikes.

 

***

 

Lucasta and Binkley were checking the perimeter when the bikes roared back into the Sanctuary. The dog looked up quickly and his tail immediately began to wag. When Lucasta followed his line of sight, she saw Negan parking his motorcycle. “Guess who’s home,” she chuckled and rubbed the dog behind the ears. Binkley adored Negan and that had been the final blow to her defenses regarding his request to marry her. Yes, the sex had been mind-blowing, but he still hadn’t come up with the tools to let her make the music he’d asked for. Three weeks later, Lucasta was still working the gardens for points, though Negan had started quietly covering the points for Binkley’s meals. 

The dog strained at his leash, so Lucasta walked him over to where the Saviors were unloading their bikes from the supply run. Negan had something slung over his back and when he spotted her walking toward him, he beamed at her. “Hey, doll,” he murmured softly as he came over. “Got something for you.” Lucasta tilted her head and he grinned wider, holding out his hands. She smiled and slid her hands up his arms, across his chest and around his neck as he pulled her close and kissed her. “And that’s not the only fuckin’ thing,” he added, breath tickling her ear. 

Binkley leaned against his leg and Negan looked down in amusement. “Hello, fuck face,” he chuckled and leaned down to rub the dog’s head. Immediately, Binkley began to dance in excitement, his wagging tail swinging his whole body until he finally gave up and flopped onto his back so Negan could rub his belly. After a few seconds, Negan looked up and saw the look of affection on Lucasta’s face. His own smile softened from it usual half-manic grin into a warm reflection of her expression. “I really do have something.” He swept the gig bag off his back and held it out to her by the strap.

“You didn’t.” Lucasta reached out with shaking hands to take the bag from him, carefully unzipped it and bit her lip hard to hold back the tears. Lovingly, she pulled out the narrow-bodied acoustic and crouched to prop it against her knee. She quickly checked the tuning, adjusted a few pegs, then struck a C chord that rang out across the courtyard, drawing the attention of several people nearby. Immediately, she plucked out three clear notes and began to sing, “I feel it in my fingers, I feel it in my toes… Love is all around me, and so the feeling grows.” She beamed up at Negan, who just stared at her, his expression full of awe. “It’s written on the wind, it’s everywhere I go.” She popped up from where she’d been kneeling and grinned at Negan, “So if you really love me, c’mon and let it show. You know I love you, I always will. My mind’s made up by the way that I feel. There’s no beginning, there can be no end. Cuz, on my love you can depend!” She struck out those same three strong notes from the beginning, then paused and looked up at Negan, still grinning. “Thank you.”

He reached for her and she swung the guitar out of the way so he could collect her to him and kiss her fiercely. When she had melted against him and he was sure he had her speechless, Negan whispered, “This. Is useful.” There was a deafening applause all around them and he grinned at her, stroking her face. “Music is useful. You can contribute. And I’ll make fucking sure to keep you in supplies for it. Tell me what shit you need, darlin’. I’ll get it. Or die trying.”

“Don’t die trying,” she whispered back, running her fingers into his hair. “I don’t want to be a widow.”

Negan sighed and pressed his face against her neck. “Fucking music to my ears, gorgeous.”

 

***

 

Negan carried Lucasta’s few belongings up the stairs as they located the room he had cleared for her in the wing where the rest of his wives lived. They shared a small, lush sitting room in one corner and then had rooms of their own down the hallway. “This is you, doll,” he smiled, pushing open the door and bringing her bag inside. She and Binkley followed him in to see the small vanity set against the wall, a double mattress and box-spring on the floor, curtains on the windows pulled back to see a surprisingly nice view of the Southern orchards. “Sorry the bed’s on the floor,” he said quickly. “Couldn’t find a frame or headboard. Fucking things are getting scarce. People chopping them up for the fucking wood.”

“I prefer it low,” Lucasta smiled at him and leaned up to kiss his shoulder. “It’s easier for Binkley to sleep with me this way.”

Negan looked down at the dog, who wagged his tail. “I’m not fucking sharing, pooch.” Binkley snorted and leaned against Negan’s leg. Negan sighed and leaned down to scratch him behind the ears. “Fucking soft touch,” he sighed as the dog drooled cheerfully on his leg. 

“One reason I love you,” Lucasta whispered. She had set the guitar aside and came to curl her arms around his neck where he kneeled beside the dog. “Because I do, Negan. I really do love you.”

Negan sighed and wrapped his arms around her waist, letting his face press into her chest. “You have no fucking idea how good it is to hear that, doll. I really fucking mean it.” He held her like that for a while as she slowly ran her fingers through his hair, occasionally leaning down to kiss his forehead or his temple. “Lu,” he finally whispered. His voice was hoarse and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I… fuck. You know about me. Everybody fucking knows about me. I’ve got the girls over here. I’ve got Lucille. But…” He let himself trail off and felt her press her nose against the top of his head. “Hearing you sing. It made me fucking feel something. I haven’t felt… any fucking thing since before the roamers started. I was dead a long fucking time ago.” He slowly stroked her back, letting his hands fall down to her hips. “Hurts a little.”

“Feeling does hurt,” she whispered back, kissing his forehead. “Even the good feeling.”

Negan tilted his head to look up at her and Lucasta smiled at him, spreading that warmth through his whole body. “Play some more for me?”

Lucasta leaned down and pressed her mouth to his, feeling his sway a little against her. “Of course,” she whispered. “Anything in particular you want to hear?”

“Is there… more to that song?”

Her grin was as warm as the sun on his face.


	7. Chapter 7

_ Now _

Coming back to the Sanctuary really was coming home. Lucasta snuggled up behind Negan on the bike, watching the world roll on by as they returned to the base. She pushed her face into the smooth, worn leather of his jacket and tried not to examine the feelings ripping through her. As they rolled past the fence of walkers, her arms tightened around his waist and she felt his soft chuckle through his back. “Welcome home,” he murmured softly. She didn’t answer until he rolled the motorcycle into the motor pool and sat in silence, just letting her work into it.

It took a good five minutes before Lucasta felt ready to lift her head. Nothing had changed: the motor pool looked the same. The walls, the gates, the faces as people passed… it was all the same. When she let her arms fall down from around Negan’s waist, he stood up from the bike and turned around, settling back onto the seat so he was facing her. “I’ve missed you so fucking bad,” he whispered, reaching to touch her face. He waited, fingers barely touching her cheek until she leaned and pressed her skin against his palm, eyes closed. “Lu, why? Why them?”

“I just ran,” she whispered without opening her eyes. “I didn’t plan it. They found me and took me in, that’s all. They’re a family, Negan.”

Negan’s fingers trembled against her face and Lucasta held very still, waiting. There was something there that she was afraid to look at, so she just waited. Finally, Negan’s voice came out in a harsh rasp: “And what are we, Lu? Aren’t we a family?” 

Lucasta opened her eyes and found the hazel of his eyes darker than usual, like a cloud had covered the sun. He was still shaking with repressed emotion that was still visible in his face, the lines of his eyebrows, the tightness of his jaw. He was both furious and heartbroken, struggling back and forth between the extremes of emotion. “Family doesn’t use each other,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. 

His hand jerked sharply and Lucasta gasped as the support under her face vanished and she overbalanced toward the ground. As quickly as he had let her go, Negan caught her again, gathering her against his chest with a little sigh. “Fuck, Lu. I didn’t use you. I love you.”

Slowly, she shook her head and pushed away with her palms against his chest. “I’d like to see my dog now,” she whispered. Negan nodded and leaned forward toward her, more a little sway than a conscious movement and Lucasta smiled at him, her eyes sad. Her hands were still on his chest when she stood up and swung her leg back over the motorcycle’s seat. 

Negan fell into step beside her, carrying Lucille loosely without really seeming to think about the bat except as an extension of his arm. He reached with his free hand, seeking her fingers, but Lucasta pulled away and tucked her hands into her pockets. When she did, she could see that the withdrawal stiffened his spine and he seemed to regain some of his usual swagger, Lucille swinging more freely and occasionally coming up to rest against his shoulder as he started to whistle. She smiled quietly to herself. She knew he loved her: he never forgot himself like that with anyone else. He would thank her for the pain later, for reminding him where they were and who was watching.

They walked up the stairs together, Lucasta keeping herself one step behind him as he continued to work his presence on anyone they came across. The less he remembered her at the moment, the better it was for him. For them. 

But a rush of excitement hit her as they reached the last flight and she found herself taking the stairs two at a time. Negan chuckled softly and let her go, following at his own pace. Lucasta burst into the suite of rooms Negan had reserved for himself and called out, “Binkley!” The Australian shepherd mix exploded out of his self-made nest in the middle of Negan’s bed and threw himself at her in a joyous dance of shaggy fur and wiggling muscle. Lucasta let the dog bowl her over onto the floor as she wrapped herself around his neck and giggled, clinging as he licked her face excitedly. 

Distantly, she heard the door click shut and the sound of Lucille being set on the floor and rested against the arm of the couch. After a few more minutes of drowning in enthusiastic dog slobber, Lucasta pushed Binkley’s head away and the dog bounced across the room to wiggle happily against Negan’s leg, tail thumping the floor wildly. Negan dropped down onto the couch to roughly rub the dog’s fur until it stuck out in all directions, all while growling in wordless affection. “Dumb shit,” Negan grinned when the dog leaned against his leg again, panting happily. 

“Smart shit,” Lucasta corrected with a smile and Binkley charged back over to her again. “He’s smart enough to know who he loves. And he sees through your act.” Negan didn’t answer and Lucasta just focused on loving up her dog until Binkley finally settled down and flopped to the floor with his chin on her thigh. “Negan,” Lucasta said softly.

“Yeah, babe.” When she looked up, he was slouched on the couch, his hand working thoughtful movements over his scruffy chin and his eyes fixed somewhere in the middle distance. At her silence, his eyes flicked down to study her, eyebrows raised in question.

“You’re going to have to iron me.”

“Shut that shit up,” he snapped, his eyes suddenly flashing in rage. 

“It’s true and you know it,” she whispered. “I broke the rules and then I ran.”

Negan popped up from the couch and started to pace. “No. You… I already… you’re square for the meals you took. Everything’s even Steven.” From the frantic look in his eyes, she knew he was lying. “You’re my wife, Lu. I can’t…”

“You’re going to have to,” Lucasta murmured. “Unless you can prove that I didn’t do it. Because I didn’t.” Binkley thumped his tail once against the floor and let out a doggy sigh.

Negan froze and turned to her, his eyes cold for a moment. “What didn’t you do?”

Lucasta looked up at him and lifted her chin. “Whatever it is you think I did. Whatever earned Charlie the last dance with Lucille.” 

Negan crouched down until he was sitting with his knees splayed out to the sides and his heels pressed flat to the floor, almost frog-like. With his elbows on his knees and his hands dangling loosely, he met her eyes steadily, coldly. “You’re telling me Charlie died on bad information?” When she nodded, he closed his eyes and turned his head away. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You wouldn’t have believed me,” she answered softly. “You would have thought I was lying to keep you from killing again.”

“So you let an innocent man die. Because you didn’t think I would believe you.” Negan’s breathing was ragged and Lucasta chewed her lip, surprised by the pain in his expression. “You let me kill an innocent man. Based on lies.”

“Negan, I--”

“God DAMN it, Lu!” he bellowed, rocketing to his feet and slamming a fist against the big spiraled post of the bed. The wood cracked sickeningly… at least, Lucasta hoped it was the wood and not his hand. “God FUCKING damn it. When I have I ever, EVER not believed you!? Huh?” he demanded, turning from the bed and staring at her with pleading eyes. “Fuck it, Lucasta, I have always trusted you. Always. From the fucking second I first kissed you.” Horror crossed his face and Lucasta covered her mouth as she started to cry. “Simon knew. Fucking… Simon knew I was wrong.” He stared down at her, begging her with his eyes to tell him he was wrong, that there was still some way out of this self-blame. “Simon knew you didn’t do it. He’s been trying for months to tell me. Fuck!” Slowly, like a tree giving up its hold on the soft earth around its roots, Negan flopped backwards onto the bed with a groan. “Fuck.”

Lucasta rushed to him and half-threw herself onto the bed beside him, cupping a hand to his cheek. “Simon knew what really happened,” she gasped, still crying. “But you weren’t listening to anything right then. There was nothing anyone could say unless they were Jack or Alicia.” He didn’t respond, simply lying very still with his eyes shut. Lucasta whimpered and nosed against his neck, her tears falling on his skin until he twitched. “Negan, please. I’m so sorry.”

“What really happened.” It was a question as much as a statement, but all the tone seemed to have been leached from Negan’s voice. “Tell me.”

“I saw that Charlie and Jodi were struggling to keep up on points for formula for Willa. So I brought them some of the bottled water and cookies the wives usually stash for themselves. The water would help keep Jodi hydrated so she might actually be able to nurse. I know they’d been trying to nurse, but it’s so hard now without good nutrition.” Lucasta swallowed hard and tried to stop crying, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. “Negan, I know it was wrong. But they were struggling so hard. And the baby… she couldn’t work for her own points. We can’t let kids die, just because they haven’t earned points.”

“That’s all?” Negan’s voice was dry and thin, almost reedy.

“I probably took them thirty bottles of water over about two weeks,” Lucasta whispered against his neck. “Maybe a full package of cookies and half a package of crackers.” 

“I killed a man over a case of bottled water, a box of cookies and two sleeves of saltines.” When Lucasta didn’t answer, Negan pulled himself up off the bed and stormed to the door, jerked it open and hollered down the stairwell, “I want Jack and Alicia in my office in ten minutes. If they aren’t there when I get there, I’m ironing the first fucker I find on the steps.”

“What are you going to do?” Lucasta asked him in a small voice.

Negan turned toward her, then zipped up his jacket and steeled his expression into his usual jovial smile, though his eyes were still glittering hard with anger and pain. “I’m shutting this shit down.” He picked up Lucille and slammed the door after him.


End file.
